


Scheming Swindlers

by billspilledquill



Series: Negation [2]
Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Autistic Character, Lies, M/M, Manipulation, Moral Ambiguity, Seduction, Serial Killers, They kiss a lot for all the wrong reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26724967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billspilledquill/pseuds/billspilledquill
Summary: ”Friend? I was just playing along. I said from the start that if he sought my friendship then I’d offer it.”L sought something else. Light offered anyway.
Relationships: L/Yagami Light
Series: Negation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973404
Comments: 44
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yes I watched death note in the year of our lord 2020 and actually enjoyed it. way too much. this year is truly an apocalypse that keeps on giving

  
_The Bible is very easy to understand. But we Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we know very well that the minute we understand, we are obliged to act accordingly._   
Soren Kierkegaard, Provocations: Spiritual Writings of Kierkegaard.

  
And so God said, thou shall not kill. 

“You have seen me with Shiho and Emi,” Light said with the lingering feeling of Amane Misa on his lips. His room was once bugged with sixty-four tracked cameras. It was hard to forget that and talk without being reminded of the shame. “I’ll have to keep this up and make sure she stays totally infatuated with me.”

Ryuk crackled. “I have heard that humans are driven by their emotions.”

“They are weak,” Light pronounced. “This is where idiots fail.”

“Light is not an idiot,” Ryuk sing-sang in a terrible imitation of a human girl. Ryuk, fascinated with Sayu’s TV shows, developed a liking for female protagonists with too much to cry for. “Light is smart,” Ryuk said. “Light does not love.”

Light propped himself on his bed, crossed his legs. He laughed, then wondered why he was laughing.

It could be this: Light never believed in God.

When the Creature sought pity, it proclaimed to its Creator: _I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen Angel._

If Light were to fall- if Light were to die- then he would receive no pity. A game was a game, and a victory was a victory. Light was no sore loser, but he was a proud winner. History will remember him as God, or nothing at all.

L swirled his spoon inside a cup that was, Light suspected, one hundred percent sugar. “I don’t want Light-kun to be Kira,” L said, “because Light-kun is the first person I have ever liked.”

Light almost laughed; he smiled instead. He let some seconds fly by, just to instill that in- _the first-ever._ “I miss you at school,” he admitted, lowering his eyes to meet L’s. “We should play tennis again, sometimes.”

L’s head turned to him, a tug of lips. “Yes,” he said.

Beside them, a God of death crackled. There will be no pity, no losing. Light was not Adam. He did not fly. He will not fall.

Back in the comfort of his clean, cameras-less room, Light sharpened his pencil and opened his diary. Light will reap for what he sowed. 

L went up the stairs with the grace of a frog.

“As a friend,” L had said. But Yagami Light was a Kira suspect, and Kira wanted to kill L. Kira wanted to kill L and L was attached to Yagami Light. So L lied, and so there can only be lies between them.

Sayu approached him discreetly and Light bent down to meet her. “Your friend is weird,” she said.

Light smiled. “He is a good friend.”

She shot him a look. “You never bring friends home.”

“Listen well, Sayu,” he said, lowering his voice. “Don’t come and disturb us with your calculus homework. I will do them for you if that’s what it takes, but later.”

Instead of beaming like Light thought she would, she narrowed her eyes. “What are you guys doing?”

Light blinked. “Don’t tell dad about it,” he said, making sure his voice cracked a bit, “but my friend… has a little problem.”

Light pointed down. Sayu giggled.

“Shouldn’t he see a doctor for that?”

Light glanced nervously at L, then back to Sayu. “Well, I am his only friend, and his finances can’t allow him to go to the clinic…”

“Light-kun,” L deadpanned.

Light stood. “See you later, Sayu.”

Sayu pulled her tongue at him, and bid them a cheerful goodbye.

L surveyed his room with clinical interest. “I would have preferred the peace if it weren’t for the fact that Light-kun just insinuated in front of his little sister that I am diagnosed with erectile dysfunction.”

“Allegedly,” Light replied lightly, patting the space beside him. L ignored that, curling in his chair instead.

“Oh, Light’s going to do it again,” Ryuk said.

 _Yes_ , Light thought. “Ryuzaki,” he began.

“Light-kun is very cold,” L cut in, his limbs draped over his desk, his head bent to look at the drawers. “He thinks that I don’t know what he would say.”

Light laughed. “You said you liked me. Of course, I am going to bring that up.” 

L opened his diary. The one he was supposed to open. “Yes, I enjoy Light-kun’s company a lot.”

”I do too,” Light said, looking through his lashes, “Ryuzaki.”   
  
L made a non-committal sound from the back of his throat. He flipped a page. “Light-kun doesn’t mind?” he asked, his eyes glued to the paper. 

Light waited to say no. He waited long enough for L to get suspicious. L had his diary held on his fingertips, his eyes wide and black when he stared back at him.

“ _I don’t know_ ,” L quoted, “ _if I should feel this way for him_?”

“Oh!” Light made a show to grab at the diary. It fell between them like a silent promise, a quiet victory. “I mean,” Light blurted, looked away. He wondered if it was too much, the emotions. If he should tone them down or let them wash over. L didn’t seem like one that would enjoy grand proclamations of love. Words like _fate_ , words like _destiny_. Worse was that it could be true, so Light settled on a whispered “sorry”, and watched the world tilt to the way he wanted.

L picked up the diary again. He folded it and put it back from where it came from, a surprisingly kind gesture from someone who was neither kind nor clean.

“Light-kun thinks he likes me too.”

 _Thinks_. That was an issue. “I don’t know,” Light said, then, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

L looked at him. He looked at him for a long time. He seemed to like what he found.

“Light-kun lies. He is lying.”

Light knew what he wanted. He knew exactly what he desired; what was frustrating was that L knew, too.

L held his hand.

It was an odd sight, an even odder feeling. Yagami Light was a liar. L was an even better one.

“I wish you can stay here,” Light said. He told Sayu that his friend was staying. _Ryuzaki was so ashamed of his flagging genitalia that he refused to go back to his girlfriend, don't laugh, Sayu. Be more sympathetic_. “I wish you can stay with me.”

“Yes,” L said. Lies, lies, lies. “I am comforted that Light-kun thinks the same.”

 _I wish you can fall into a swamp, rot, and die covered in mud._ If he were Kira in L’s eyes, he doubted that the thought wouldn’t be too far-fetched for him as well.

It was a small, but accommodating bed. They didn’t move or touch except for their hands. It seemed to Light that he was by himself, with Ryuk, with his notebook. The strange comfort of knowing exactly where and why he lied, and why he sometimes didn’t.

L kept holding his hand.

And so God said, go forth and multiply. Light didn’t think that was what it meant. Be fruitful, Light thought. Well, that certainly explained a little.

“You’re awake, Ryuzaki.”

“I was never asleep.”

“Then why,” Light said, still frazzled by the whole ordeal, “are you like this.”

L stopped getting closer. “That wasn’t a question,” he remarked. 

“No,” Light said, sighing. “It wasn’t.”

L let Light settle his forehead against his. In L’s eyes, Light’s reflection was black. “Light-kun is afraid of intimacy.”

A test. An easy test. “A little,” Light said, pushing himself up. He lowered his eyes. “I assumed that you would be less… inclined as well.”

Lies, lies, lies. “I am not afraid of Light-kun,” L said. His shirt and hair were more ruffled than usual. “I am prepared to die for this case.”

“Yes,” Light said, prying his mind from laughter. The sheer ridiculousness of that lie. It was like L was begging to be mocked. “Justice wins.”

L smiled a little. “If there ever was a good, an objective one, then we are far from it.”

“You don’t believe that you’re delivering justice? It’s Kira that we’re talking about. You’re in the right.”   
  
“Only poetic justice,” L said. “And even then.” 

Light stretched. L followed his movements. “Plato hated poets, Ryuzaki.”

“I would think Kira read him very diligently.” L brought his thumb to his lips, craning his head to smile at Light. He found it funny.

Light shrugged. “Everyone had. Don’t look at me like that. I am not Kira.”

“Ah,” L said. “I know you’re not, Light-kun.”

Light stopped. L was crouching beside the bedpost, his eyes twinkling with an amusement that Light had never seen before. An elation, deep in the veins, began to run its course. Light let his hands travel to the sheets, then to L’s neck. He brushed a few hair strands away from his face. This horrible, ugly face. This lying face. No sculptor would have created such things. Plato hated all artists.

L smiled at him. “Light-kun doesn’t need to kiss me for that.”

Liar. Light did anyway.

Light had to reap for what he sowed.


	2. Chapter 2

  
The question was, do I kill him now.

Light closed his diary. He had written: _Ryuzaki is my friend. I don’t know if I should feel this way for him._ Today he wrote: _We kissed._

No, Light reasoned, mindlessly throwing an apple at Ryuk. L will be sure who Kira was. If he was L in the first place. His father will know, Light mused, lunging on his bed, flipping his phone open.

“Misa?” Light said, blocking out Ryuk’s gurgling sound. “It’s about tomorrow.”

Tadaka was _refined_ , or so people called her. She was smart; she memorized her textbooks and sat with her spine straight. She liked to tuck her hair behind her ears. Light put an arm around her shoulder and she was smiling.

Stupid, Light concluded. This school was foolish, dull, boring. Ryuk’s wings fluttered, and he crackled. Light was reminded to store disgust somewhere in his heart, or whatever place that stored things better. The lungs, perhaps. His mind needed to be pristine. Any other place was fine.

L met him on the bench. He was talking with a girl, or rather, the girl was talking to him, and L was staring at her.

“Ryuga-kun,” she began. “I was wondering if you’d be interested to join me for lunch?”

Light couldn’t help it. His steps slowed until they halted, and Takada glanced at him questionably, as if wondering why they couldn’t continue parading the school like a pair of overblown, feathered peacocks.

L noticed him, surely. He smiled the same way he did when he left. After Light brought his lips to his cheek and whispered _come back soon_.

“Kyoko-san likes me?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I want to get to know you.”

L laid his head on his knees. “Why?”

She adjusted her glasses. “You’re very cool. I want to be friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yes,” she said. “Or something else. If you want.”

Tadaka chuckled beside him. She leant over to say, “Freaks attract freaks.”

Just a little more, Light thought. In his world, people like Tadaka will change. Or not exist. “I have something to say to Ryuga,” Light said. “Would you care going first? I will join you later.”

She looked insulted. But she had good breeding, she will not cause a fuss. “Alright,” she drawled. “Meet me later, Light.”

The girl was still fawning over L when she suddenly looked up to him. “Oh, Yagami-kun,” she said, all expression drained away. “I didn’t see you.”

She did saw him, but it hardly mattered. “I am here for Ryuga,” Light answered readily. “We have psychology together.”

“Yes,” L confirmed. “It was nice to meet you, Kyoko-san. I’m glad I have made another friend.”

She grinned at him. “Likewise, Ryuga-kun. Do join me for lunch someday, yeah?”

“She ignored Light-kun,” L said after she left, a thumb in his mouth. “It’s the first time I see that happen.” 

“Never mind about her,” Light said, irritated. “Come with me.”

“To psychology?”

“Yes,” Light said, grabbing his hand. “We have group work, remember?”

L fell silent for a while, staring at their hands. “Light-kun is taking this too seriously.”

Light pulled. “Just come with me.”

L let himself be pulled, a strange smile tugging his lips. “Is he going to kiss me again?”

The weather was nice. The blue of the sky got swallowed by the black wings of a Shinigami. From his perspective, night had fallen over. “You want to know too much too quickly,” Light said. 

“Light-kun doesn’t care for truth?”

Light pretended to think. “No,” Light said, settling for a shard of honesty. “Not when it doesn’t matter.”

And reaching a corner devoid of students, flickering a glance to his surroundings, Light kissed him.

Amane Misa didn’t visit To-Ho University that day. Nor the day after. Light got the news of her capture from L, when they were in his room, their hands in each other. 

“A woman?” Light asked, resting his head on L’s shoulder.

“A suspect for second Kira. She is very cute.”

“Is she,” Light said.

“I have seen her from the March issue of ‘Eighteen’.”

“We did say that the fingertips looked like a woman’s,” Light commented.

“Yes,” L said. He was moving a hand down his hair, his eyes blown wide, as though fascinated. “We have proof that she is the one that sent the tapes to Sakura TV.”

There were scars down L’s torso, on his back. Children’s brawls, with no signs of fighting back. L never cared for his body, being as gangly and awkward as he was. Light hated scars. Permanence was the worst thing to be branded on skin.

Rem was standing between them, her white wings moving against L. Her stoic, monstrous face turned sharp, weary. _Save her_ , she thundered. _Save her or you will die._

Light let L travel his fingers on the threads of his hair, to pull it ever so slightly. “We have to catch the first Kira yet.”

“We will, soon. She will let us.”

“Yes,” Light said, moving away. He laid a hand on L’s shoulder. “Say, do you want to take a walk?”

L just stared. “Is Light-kun going to murder me?”

Light laughed, kissing him again. L talked less when he did. He had to do this more often than with Misa. What a bother. “It’s just a walk. I don’t peg you as a romantic, but at least have some sense of it, Ryuzaki.”

“Light-kun is dating three people at the same time,” L said, standing up. “I doubt he knows much about romance.”

“If you are smart, you do,” Light said carelessly. The room felt small with four beings crammed in. One creature laughing, the other glaring, all of them equally annoying. “And you’re smart, Ryuzaki.”

“Yes,” L said, crossing the room to open the door. “I know exactly what Light-kun is doing.”

“Wait for me by the door,” Light called. “Don’t mind my sister.”

“Is Light-kun going to write in his diary about me again?”

“Jerk,” Light said and shut the door with a click. He pulled out his diary and a black notebook.

In his notebook, he wrote: _Ito Hiroto. Pulls a car near Yagami residence with the intent to injure anyone that walks in the street. Dies of a heart attack after causing minor injury. 17:50. May 24 th, 2004. _

“Ryuk,” Light said, tossing the notebook to the Shinigami with an all-too triumphant grin. “This is goodbye.”

In his diary, he wrote: _I think I am in love with him._


	3. Chapter 3

  
Light woke up with a distinct feeling of loss in his hands.

“Ryuzaki,” he said tentatively. He found his voice broken; he swallowed. “Ryuzaki?”

There was a camera in the room. Somehow, Light stared right into it and remembered something. A futile glimpse, an emotion, before it passed by unnoticed. “Ryuzaki!”

It smelled like antiseptic. It smelled like a hospital. It wasn’t a hospital. A kidnapping?

“Kira tried to kill me today.” The room boomed with Ryuzaki’s voice. A microchip, a microphone. Light twisted, winced and shut his eyes close, hope that in turn shut the throbbing pain at the back of his head.

“Where am I?”

“Light-kun is in a building that is still under construction. It is designed for the Kira investigation, so he doesn’t need to worry.”

“What time is it?”

A pause. “Why does Light-kun want to know?”

“Is it suspicious that I want to know the hour?”

“Normal people would ask what happened to them,” L said in a careful tone. “Given the fact that Light-kun has bandages all over himself.”

Light rubbed his temples. “There was a car,” he said.

The voice went silent. Light looked at the camera; he imagined those eyes staring right back. He went back to his hands.

“The driver was trying to hit you,” Light stated. “I stepped in front of it.”

“You ran for it,” L said eventually, sounding reluctant. “Light-kun was very brave.”

“Why do you think it was Kira?”

“The driver is recently got out of jail. He also died of heart failure immediately after.”

“Okay,” Light said. _Why aren’t you here?_ sounded wrong. _Why did I save you?_ sounded, on the other hand, too right. “What time is it?”

“It is six-thirty, Light-kun.”

“Oh,” Light said, not understanding the relief in his voice, the slumping of his shoulders. He glanced at his bare wrist. “Where is my watch?”

“Light-kun is chatty today.”

“Where is it?”

“Watari took care of your clothes. You were bleeding out, Light.”

There was it. _Your clothes. You were_. Light without an honorific. The edge to the nasal sound. Irritation, Light suspected. Frustration. Maybe that was why he wasn’t here. He had to hide. Like a _child_.

As a humming in his chest took flight, Light flexed his hands, the pale, almost transparent skin shying the veins beneath. A part of his mind was content. It was the part of him that he didn’t understand, somewhere in the heart, perhaps, or the lungs. His mind was clear. 

L did not visit the next day. Nor the day after. Three days later, his father showed up.

“Ryuzaki instructed me that you needed rest,” Soichiro said as a way of explanation. “I had to convince your mother and sister that nothing bad happened to you.”

Something bad did happen to him. L must have said that he was alright. His father didn’t look too worried; Light was reminded of the fact that his father’s priority had always been work. “Thank you,” Light said. “How is the investigation going?”

His father’s eyes were sunken, gray around the edges. “Are you dating a Kira suspect, Light?”

Light snapped his head towards him. “Amane Misa?”

“She said that you were. It’s the only useful thing we have gotten from her.”

“I don’t- I think-“

“Light,” Soichiro said, and Light flinched at the severity the word conveyed. “You are not Kira.”

It was meant to be a question, Light knew. His father simply couldn’t bring himself to. “Of course not!” Light said, indignant, balling fabric in his fists. “I hate Kira. You know I do. I thought my suspicion was cleared. I thought Ryuzaki _trusted me_. What is this? Is that why he’s keeping me here?”

“The killings have stopped, Light.”

“What?”

“Kira has stopped killing since you got here.”

“No,” Light said.

“Light…”

“I’m _not_.” He shook his head. “I’m not Kira.”

“Maybe you were controlled,” Soichiro said softly. “Maybe you weren’t aware of it.”

“I am not Kira,” Light repeated. “I will never kill people. I will never think-“ he trailed off because that wasn’t quite true. “I don’t want any of this.”

His father just sighed and took out a white, simple book from his bag. “I brought your diary. Your sister says that you write every day on it. It might do you good to write your thoughts down.”

Light swallowed. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

Soichiro stilled, putting the diary down the nightstand when he saw that Light wasn’t going to take it. “Of course, Light. You are not a prisoner.”

“Good,” Light said.

“Ryuzaki has a series of questions. He will come later today.”

“Good,” Light said, wobbling on his feet. “Excuse me.”

“Light-”

“ _Excuse me_ ,” insisted Light, closing the door towards his way to the bathroom.

Light stumbled back to his room with an L crouching on his bed, the lid of the laptop hiding his face.

“Light-kun can come back later if he is still nauseated,” L said, without looking up. “There are cameras in the bathroom as well. I can monitor him anywhere.”

Light crossed the room and stood at the edge of the bed. “Ryuzaki,” he began, his voice cracking. He supposed that it was due to the fact that he had just purged. “Look at me.”

L closed his laptop. In his hands, there was a white notebook. “Light-kun needs rest. I can come another time.”

“Is that my diary?”

“Light-kun is cruel,” L said, still emersed with whatever he had written. For a reason or another, he can’t remember what he had written for the past few days. “He doesn’t even spare himself.”

Light crossed his arms. “I am not in the mood for mind games. Look at me, Ryuzaki.”

L tilted his head, his fingertips holding the spine of the diary like some foreign treasure. “I can’t tell if he’s lying right now. Is Light-kun lying?”

Light gritted his teeth, and in a rage, spread his arms wide. “ _Look at me, damnit!”_

L obeyed; his eyes unblinking. Observing, scrutinizing, L concluded, “It seems not.”

Light lifted him by the collar, and, listening to the slow, shallow beat of his heart, slammed his fist straight into L’s face.

L seemed to not expect it; he didn’t seem much of anything. His eyes stayed black and wide. Light clutched the front of the fabric that he hated. For a moment, he hated everything. If he could kill, he would kill L. No one else. He would kill no one else. He never killed _anyone_.

“I’m not Kira,” Light said, seething. A dam had broken, somewhere in his lungs, in his heart. He lacked the breath to accuse and the weakness to plead. He simply said, “Why don’t you believe me?”

A bruise bloomed on L’s left cheek. But Light couldn’t let go. He had to hold on. He had to feel grounded. Earthed. L’s long pale fingers grasped his, the one still gripping the shirt.

“I know what Light-kun can do to others. I know what he can do to himself,” L said. “Because there is no one else that understands him more than me.”

Light staggered. “Ryuzaki-”

“Oops,” L said, and his knee jerked, hitting him right under the chin.

Light’s back collided with the door. He wiped the residues of blood off his chin, gritting it with his elbow. “What the hell-”

L dusted himself up. His shirt, while ruffled, was probably the cleanest thing in the room. “I suggest Light-kun rest and read his journal. There seem to be things that he has forgotten. Important things,” L said, ducking his head to the side before shrugging. “Or not.”

“I am not,” Light began. Bile rose to his throat. He closed his mouth. Opened it again. “I am not a monster, Ryuzaki. I am certainly not _that_ monster.”

L gave him a hand. Light thought about striking before settling on cooperation. His skin was cold, dry, and uncomfortable. It reminded Light of something that he couldn’t quite grasp. “That’s a part of it,” L said, “but monsters come in different forms.”

Light grabbed his hand and inched closer. Those eyes that reflect nothing. “I am not lying, Ryuzaki.” 

The ghost of a smile illuminated L’s face. Light was back against the door, but L didn’t seem to notice to have cornered him. Or maybe that was exactly why he was smiling. “Light-kun is catching on,” L said, reaching forward. Light thought he was going to embrace him.  
  
“The worst monsters are liars,” L said, “and those who lie to themselves.” And Light, his mouth open in mid-retort, saw him come closer. 

But L was simply opening the door. Light moved away; L swung the door open and exited.


	4. Chapter 4

There were exactly three problems concerning the sentence _I think I am in love with him_. One was the word _think_ , another _in_ , and the oddest of them all: the convincing pen stroke of the word _love_.

Because Light was only _sure_. He loved the slight wind when trees outside his class window knocked apples off the ground, the hitting drops when the rain hit in his way to cram school, the silence of his room, but there was not an _in_ to infer to; he never fell _in_ anything. Light never _fell_.

Light closed the diary, let his head touch the pillow. “You don’t have to stay here,” Light said.

The click-a-clack of the keyboard was starting to annoy him. “Light-kun is a suspect,” L delivered mildly. “Surely he realizes.”

Light turned his head to him, the screen bright against the dark. “My father told me that the killings have stopped.”

L’s curved back faced him. “Yes.”

“And Misa?”

“Misa-san misses her boyfriend very much.”

His hands went to rest on the back of his head. Light looked at the celling, and had the odd feeling of being in class again, with meaningless speech and shallow people. He turned to glance L’s back. The whistling of leaves- they can be the same thing. “It’s one-sided,” Light heard himself murmur to the walls. “She went to my house and wanted us to date. She used a fake name. I never knew she would be a celebrity… I don’t read magazines, Ryuzaki.”

“Your diary mentions a certain Yamanaka Yua.”

“That’s Amane Misa,” Light said. He didn’t remember anything about her. Only the diary provided some insight. “I suppose.” 

The typing continued uninterrupted, but the sound settled, lightened. “It is suspicious that Light-kun is dating someone he had claimed to not know.”

Yes, it was. Somehow Light wasn’t worried. “Is she locked up like me?”

“Light-kun is not locked up,” L said. “She is.”

Light shut his eyes, slipping further into the comforter. “I am not Kira.”

L turned to him, his fingers still flying against the keyboard. “Is Light-kun afraid of going to Hell?”

Light brought an arm over his eyes. He laughed as the sheets shuffled between them. L was looking at him. “If you think so, then you would have asked me if I am afraid of not going to Heaven. You’re convinced that I am Kira. That I am _evil_. Reverse psychology, Ryuzaki. Try harder.”

L scratched the back of his head. “I apologize.”

“If anything, you should be afraid,” Light said. “I saved your life, and you proceed to lock me up as a suspect with no concrete proof on the matter. You used an inmate’s life to lure Kira out on live TV, Ryuzaki. You’re no different than Kira when it comes to this. There’s evil in you, too.”

L faced him fully. He pushed the laptop towards him- the images of Amane Misa being tied up to a post, her eyes blindfolded. “Light-kun talks in ideals,” L said. “He is an idealist.” He pressed a button, and the laptop began to scream.

Light flung the comforter aside.

“Amane-san doesn’t seem to remember why she is imprisoned,” L said. On the screen, Amane Misa pleaded to go to the washroom. “Light-kun doesn’t seem to remember why he is dating her.”

“I’m,” Light said, wide awake now. “I’m pretty sure that what you are doing right now is against the Geneva convention.”

L pressed the button again, shutting the lid with a bored expression. “Kira is a student,” L said suddenly. “One that doesn’t believe in Hell. One that doesn’t care if he does go there. He thinks in ideals. He doesn’t find pleasure in killing, but does in knowing why he kills.”

Light glared at the shut lid. Wondered if the screams continued.

L said, “The killings have never stopped.”

Light made a sound, all thoughts of Misa out of the window. L continued, nonchalant, “There’s a third Kira. It’s hardly surprising; the percentage for the turnout of this outcome was higher than seventy-five. What I consider progress is the fact that I have been rectified about the first murder of the first Kira. The one where the police missed. The one I missed. One kill, and nothing for two days. All of us thought Kira began his murder spree on the last day of November 2003. But there was one before,” L said, his eyes on him. “Otoharada Kurou.”

“The kidnapping case,” Light echoed.

“The news was diffused in the Kanto region,” L said. “But that’s not what’s interesting.”

“The two days,” Light said. “Kira didn’t mean to kill Otoharada. Or didn’t know he would kill him. The two-day gap is a sign of distress.”

“Kira believes in ideals. He has to,” L said. “Otoharada is evil, eliminate him. Eliminate him and become evil in return. But only evil can fight off evil, and by doing so, one becomes good.” He let one leg dangle on the ground, his arm picking up the comforter with his fingertips, and placed it back to bed. “Kira believes himself to be righteous. An easy process of sublimate," L continued. "That's why Kira can never be God."

“God doesn’t apply meaning to death,” Light said easily, words slipping off his tongue. “Humans do.” That odd spark in his mind, though, hadn’t dimmed. “That doesn’t explain why you believe he’s a student.”

“Were.”

“What?”

L said. “You were a student, Light-kun. You will not be for a long time.”

“You said the killings never stopped. You made my father lie to me.”

“I apologize,” L repeated. He sounded bored by the inquiry. They faced each other, their hands firmly on their sides. “But I needed to see Light-kun’s reaction.”

“And what’s your conjecture?”

“I would like Light-kun to help me track down the third Kira,” L said.

“This Kira is different,” Light guessed. 

“This Kira is not Light-kun,” L answered. And this time when he came closer, Light had his instinct proven right. “The first Kira is you. The second Amane Misa. I’ll need your help with the third.”

“I am just a student among many, Ryuzaki. With your theory, anyone in school could have done it.”

“Dull,” L said. Light didn’t know what to make of the fact that their hands were touching. As if touch made everything real as if this conversation could have happened with anyone else. The touch was banal. Light found himself listening instead. “Dull,” L repeated. “Dull people with dull desires.” 

L dropped his eyes. For the first time, he feigned vulnerability. “Kira is pure,” L said. 

Light frowned. “It’s because he is crazy. He is _wrong_ , Ryuzaki. You should not defend him.”

"It's an ancient idea, a Greek one," L said. "That all pure and beautiful things are terrible."

Light shook his head. "You confuse terror with awe. The term terrible is a modern one, but it used to be awe-inspiring."

L trailed his fingers on the inside of his wrist and tapped gently. Y-e-s, it spelt out in Morse code. L drew a half-hearted circle.

“The moon is beautiful tonight,” L said. 

Light was reminded of the fact that L was probably British. “Don't say this to a Japanese person ever again, Ryuzaki. You have no idea what it means."

“I apologize,” L said, again, but it couldn’t have meant anything else. This room had no windows.

Light retrieved his wrist, rubbing it absentmindedly. “Will you free Misa?”

“Yes,” L said.

“What time is it?”

“Light-kun cannot have his watch back,” L said.

“It’s my father’s gift,” Light protested, but he was tired. “I was just asking about the hour. Maybe we can go join the team now. I haven’t seen my father for three days now.”

“I would assume this to a normal occurrence in Light-kun’s childhood,” L said, tucking his computer under his arm. “It is currently three in the morning, so I would suggest Light-kun sleep.”

“Oh,” Light said, that odd, strange spark seemed to make its exit. “Alright.”

L was half-way to the door when he turned. “I forgot to say that there was a condition for all that I mentioned previously.”

Light had the urge to hit, again. “What is it?”

“That diary,” L said, pointing with his free hand the little white thing on his bedpost. “The last entry.”

That spark returned with a vengeance. “Yes?”

“Is Light-kun lying?”

Light can’t distinguish a face in the dimly lit room, but he can imagine the expression on L’s face. “I think you have your answer already. You have asked me before.” 

“Light-kun knows I never ask an answer unless I already have my own in mind,” L said. “I am asking because I want to know what he thinks.”

“Is that going to impact my stay in the investigation team?”

“Oh, yes,” L said. “It’s going to decide everything, really.”

“Why?”

“Is Light-kun lying?”

“What?”

“Are you lying about the entry?”

The mistakes in that line. _I think._ Light never made mistakes willingly unless they served him. _In_. The oddities of the wording. Light never fell. _Love_. 

He stretched his arm, extending his hand. L caught it. Light mulled over the fingertips, the cold, hard edges of the thumb, and to the palm. He tapped against the skin. There seemed to be the only language that can exist between them when it came to the truth. Y-e-s, it spelt out. They stood there for a long time, and for an exalted moment, Light understood everything about L and forgot why they were standing.

“Light-kun was Kira,” L concluded. “He is not, now.”

They let go of each other. “So I can join? Misa will be released?”

“After we make sure that she will not be able to kill anyone by just looking, yes,” L said.

 _Yes_ , Light thought. _Yes_ , he tapped against the ridge of L’s palm, the cold, repeating truth. _Yes_ , the odd spark quivered, then shrivelled and died. From the corner of his mind, Light knew that it had lived to its purpose.

Light brought L’s hand to his lips, and without knowing why, felt like he won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moon line is most definitely a pun on Light’s kanji, but also... [yeah](https://tospeakjustice.wordpress.com/2016/01/13/the-moon-is-beautiful-isnt-it/)


	5. Chapter 5

His chest hurt. Misa was crushing it quite literally.

“Light,” she sniffed, her hair dirtied by weeks of confinement. L was right when he said that she was the one locked up. Her stiff arms were covered in marks. Light saw her straitjacket in L’s camera, blurry and bright against the dark of his room, but her face was tired; a quiet elation. Because of me, Light thought distantly. _Good_ , he thought a second later and quashed it before it formed completely.

“Misa,” Light said, one arm around her waist. L was looking, although he seemed more interested with the gun in his hand. “Calm down. Ryzuaki is not here to kill you.”

L let his eyes wander over the gun in his hand. “That’s right, Misa-san,” L said. “Only Light-kun is going to die today.”

Misa yelped and held him impossibly closer. Light let his hands push her shoulder away from him, staring at the dotted tear streaks on her clothes. “I wanted to say goodbye, Misa,” Light said, letting regret linger in his voice, trying to remember whatever it was that he liked about her. “I am Kira.”

Misa screamed. Light sighed and turned to L, who stood a few feet away, his gun pointing right at his heart.

“You should aim for the brain,” Light said. “It doesn’t allow for a chance of survival unless you miss completely.”

“Do not worry,” L said. “I won’t turn Light-kun into Phineas Gage, that would be an insult to his legacy. I am not a good shot, I admit, but he must understand why only the heart is fitting.”

Light tilted his head up. This should be honourable. His father was watching, he was sure. Cameras everywhere; there was no need to tremble. There was no need to be human. Die in dignity. “Go ahead-”

A scream. It never seemed to have stopped in the first place. Misa rushed to his side, her arms wide open as if her small frame could hold against a bullet. “No, please, stalker-san. Don’t kill him, please,” she said, “please. Don’t kill him.”

“I’m afraid that I have to,” L returned meekly, the black in his eyes at the level of the gun. 

She raged, frustrated. Changing tactics. “You are insane! You trapped me here for weeks without an explanation and now you’re killing my boyfriend? Why? You need someone to die before you kill yourself, you creep?”

“Misa,” Light warned.

She wiped her tears angrily, her mouth frowning as she stalked towards L. “If Light is Kira, he will kill you. He’s not killing you now, is he? You just want a pretext to kill him! You are _insane_ -”

L had his finger on the trigger. He wasn’t looking at her. “Kira believes himself to be God,” L said. He could very well be talking to himself. Reasoning about taking a life. “He wants to be above all.”

For a moment there was nothing; Light felt Misa’s body trembling against his, then the cold seeping through his skin when she left him to march to L, the dirty hairs on her back swaying as she did. _If she is the second Kira, she will kill me now_ , L was thinking. Was betting, Light knew. Not long-ago L said that he will put his life on the line. Light had almost laughed; he didn’t remember why.

“There is a cosmic order waiting to be put back in line,” L said. “There cannot be a God in a Godless world. There is no supreme meaning to be had in a meaningless one. This is not insanity.” L clutched his gun tighter, and Light wondered if even L believed everything he said. “This is justice.”

“Kira is not God,” Misa said. The barrel pointed at her head, the level of Light’s heart. She had her two hands on the barrel before any of them noticed. Light gasped.

“Kira is not God,” Misa repeated, her voice terrible. She made the barrel directed at her chest; her hands tight around the edges. “God made me to live. God made my parents die. Kira is the one that killed those that went unpunished- and I love him,” she said. “Isn’t that enough? Isn’t it all there is?” She bowed her head. Light listened, staring at her trembling back, to a broken mantra, “I love him,” she kept saying. “I love him, I love him.”

Misa pulled the trigger. L, his hand covering hers, pulled along. A relenting sound. A blank. There was no bullet in that gun. Misa turned to Light wide-eyed, and after a shocking second of calm, burst into tears.

“Watari,” L called. “Leave Misa-san to her room. She is under shock, and would prefer some time alone.”

She shook her head, her eyes wild. “Light,” she croaked out.

“I’m not Kira,” Light said, and gathered enough pity to hold her by the waist. “You’re not the second Kira. You just proved it. We just proved ourselves. You are safe. You don’t need to worry.”

“Maybe Misa-san needs to be,” L said, handing the gun to Watari, who had just entered the cell. He had ignored Light’s glare to continue. “She will still be monitored. Light-kun will stay with me. If ever Light-kun becomes Kira again, Misa-san will continue to obey his orders. It’s better if I would be there to stop that from happening.”

“Ryuzaki,” Light said, “not now.”

L bowed slightly and gestured to Watari’s waiting figure. “I apologize. Please follow Watari, Misa-san. I admit I did not expect her to be this brave today.”

Light pulled his lips tight. His body still ached from the bandages. _Light-kun was very brave_. Light bleed out in a street because he jumped in front of a car and was called brave instead of pathetic. “Yes,” Light said, his words lead to his mouth. “You were very brave, Misa. Go get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

She didn’t want to let go. Light softly peeled her hands away.

“Everything I said,” she pleaded, “was true. I won’t take that back.”

“I believe you,” Light said, and watched her go. Because of me, his thought surged up again, unnoticed. She will do everything for me.

“Yagami-san is waiting,” L said.

Light’s face turned to the cameras. He wondered if he looked too calm, too emotionless. It was only fair; it was a plan L had prepared in advance, one that Light knew and accepted. But he was an eighteen-year-old that had only seen a gun in serialized TV, a boy that just witnessed his girlfriend trying to shoot herself because the world’s greatest detective tried to shoot him due to an alleged accusation that he was Kira, a supernatural killer that tracked down criminals to grace them with a heart attack and that she was the second Kira, another killer that was unwittingly obsessed with the first. His face was too blank, as loud as that empty barrel: too telling, too awful. Light blindly stride forward and took L’s wrist.

L understood. L closed his fingers on his. “I set the cameras off,” he said.

“I can kill you, then,” Light said tiredly, the ache deep in his bones. He hadn’t slept properly in so long.

“He will not,” L said and smiled. “He saved my life.”

And L held it. He kept holding his hand.

Yamamoto texted him exactly sixty-eight times in the past month. _Hey, Light, how is uni treating you? We are planning a reunion; are you down? You know the girls will all come if you do…_ His mother tried to call him three times, Takada four, Sayu six. Light almost handed his phone back to L, but that would be an odd thing to do, so he tucked it in his pocket, and promised himself to reply once he got the time.

“We’re so happy to have you in the team, Light!”

“You have no idea,” Light mumbled. Matsuda, starry-eyed, nodded gingerly.

“The investigation’s going to go much faster if Light is around,” Matsuda exclaimed. “He’s so smart! You were so impressive earlier, Light. You didn’t even flinch when Ryzuaki was about to shoot, I mean, what if there was an actual bullet inside? That would be crazy!”

“Ryuzaki is not insane,” Light said, waving a careless hand in the air. “He knows what he is doing.”

“I’m very happy that Light-kun trusts me.”

Aizawa had his arms crossed, inclining in his chair. “Nonetheless, you really held your ground there, Light. We are glad to have you on our side, after all that tirade.”

Light did not miss the jab, nor did he care for it. L was diligently typing beside him, his legs up against his chest. _Easy_ , L was thinking. Letting the team dwell in their suspicion, so when Light became Kira again, they would be there to back L up. That was why he didn’t restrict Light’s movements, that was why Misa was the only one monitored.

“Because I won’t run from allegations,” Light announced. “I want to catch Kira. I will to prove to you all that I am not Kira until there’s not an ounce of suspicion left in your mind. I am on Ryuzaki’s side whether you like it or not, Aizawa-san.”

Aizawa frowned. He stood up with a sigh. “That’s not what I mean, Light,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to be aggressive. It’s just- have you thought of the chief?”

Light faltered. “What about my father?” His father was not here; Ryuzaki said he was waiting for him. He turned to L. “ _Where_ is my father?”

L blinked at him, then went back to the screen. He typed some more, and spoke, “Yagami-san, would you like to speak to your son now that his suspicion is cleared?”

The six large screens switched to six images of his father, his face all bones, his hair falling over the eyes.

“Light,” Soichiro said.

Light scrambled for the screen. “Light,” Soichiro repeated.

People kept saying his name today; his heart throbbed chillingly. “You really thought I was Kira,” Light said with a clenched jaw, shutting the hammering of that throb against the ribcage. “You thought I was Kira so you removed yourself from the investigation. Ryuzaki didn’t want you to. So you demanded confinement.”

“It was a compromise,” his father explained. “But it paid off. You get to go back to school… I can live with a clean conscience…”

Light gritted his teeth. L was staring. “I’m not quitting, dad.” And he stared right back. “Ryuzaki,” he said. “Give me the list of criminals executed by Kira in the past week.”

L nodded. “You will have a computer of your own, Light. The file will be sent to you.”

“ _Light…”_

“Dad,” Light said. He willed the ache away; an empty barrel. “Get out of that place. We have a criminal to track down.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how short it is- this serves probably better as a transition chapter, but I just wanted to set things clear before light’s memory comes back and cause havoc and bloodshed to the city 
> 
> I have been putting [this DN animatic](https://m.weibo.cn/5061138183/4364575862884433) on repeat for two weeks now- if anyone wants their life ruined by its awesomeness, please do check it out!

  
Amane Misa was lounging on the sofa crying when L walked in. That servant of his left with a bow, and Misa would be uncomfortable to be alone with a man if this one hardly glance her way.

Men always stared. Not at her face, anyway. L didn’t look at her at all, mesmerized by the hotel’s painting hung about the bed. Misa wiped her tears and sneered. Not yet. She won’t tell him off just yet. She will have her dignity back soon enough.

She let out, “How’s Light?”

L balanced his weight on one bare foot, the other scratching his ankle. Misa made a face. “He is back to his room. I was hoping to talk with you alone, Amane-san.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Beside Light-kun?”

“Mmf.”

L threaded in circle, looking anywhere but her, cold and impenetrable— and for a time she was reminded of Light. She sniffed, hating herself just a little for that comparison. “You’re a stalker,” she accused. “You just made me watch you trying to kill my boyfriend. And just a second ago Light tells me it was all a scheme because you were suspecting us being Kira. I think I got everything down quite clearly, thanks.”

L nodded along. “Amane-san has a good memory.” Even that praise was insensitive. They had went through this entire thing just a moment ago; he was talking to her as though she was stupid. “But recapitulation isn’t what I wanted to do with her.”

Misa sank further into the sofa, slowly moving to the far end of it. Men always stared. They never sought her face. They always wanted more; she exhaled. “What do you want?”

L scratched his head, the spikes of his hair entangling his fingers before letting go. “I want you to talk to Light-kun, actually.”

“Light? He told me that we are not suspects anymore! We just cleared our suspicion—”

“It’s about his health.”

Misa perked her head up. L was looking at her directly in the eyes, and Misa felt strangely comforted by it. “What’s wrong with Light?”

“He seems to have lost a part of his memory,” L said. “I believe it was due to the car accident.”

“Car accident?”

“Car accident.” L didn’t elaborate. “He mentioned you cornering him at his house as Yamanaka Yua. Do you remember that?”

Did she? She remembered Light telling her so in a phone-call, as distant that memory was. _Don’t come find me at school,_ Light had said, _Yua_. _Remember that._ Remember what? Maybe Light just liked that name, Miss thought bitterly. Maybe she ought to change her name for that, if needed be. 

“Yeah,” Misa said. “But we are really dating, though.”

L tilted his head to the side. To the other. “I’m afraid he does not remember that.”

“Really?”

L returned to the painting; a generic pretty blonde resting on her head on the armrest. Misa was ready to tell him to piss off when L asked, “Does he love you?”

“What does that have to do with you?”

“Perhaps a lot. Perhaps not even a little. It will depend on Misa-san’s answer.”

Misa took a step back. “I don’t trust you,” she said.

“I am not asking Misa-san to trust me,” L said. “I’m simply asking her a question.”

“Well,” she said, “it’s a rude one.”

L hunched further, shuffling his feet. “Does she want to know?”

Misa’s lips twitched. She jumped up; whatever anxious rage left inside of her taking shape on her tongue. “Listen,” Misa bit out, “why are you so obsessed with Light? Why are you so obsessed with me? We are not Kira, we _just_ proved it! You have no right interrogating me like this—”

“Ah,” L said. “So she does want to know.”

Misa slammed her fists on his chest. It didn’t seem to do much damage. L still had his hands in his jean pockets, still that vacant look on his face. “I want to Misa-san to speak with Light alone,” L said. “She might not have this opportunity for a long time.”

“What are you going to do to him?”

L’s eyes stayed the same. “I have said that it would depend on Misa-san,” he said mildly. “Have she ever heard about what handcuffs do to people psychologically?”

Misa slapped her lips together. L just continued, looking more and more bored, with Misa more and more compelled to tell him off. “There are studies on using handcuffs for behaviour training,” L said. “Because they start to believe it, despite not being guilty. If they were, then they become acutely aware of guilt. It works well on serial killers.”

“That has nothing to do with Light.”

“I agree. I was simply discussing the psychological repercussions on handcuffs.”

“ _No_ ,” Misa said. “You are not handcuffing Light!”

“Why not?”

“He is not.” Because isn’t L supposed to be the greatest detective alive? “He is _not_ guilty.”

“Misa-san just proved my point.”

“I’m handcuffing him to me,” L said, “for surveillance. That said, it depends largely on how your conversation go. If Misa-san tells Light-kun about being watched during their little reunion, then I will stop it immediately.”

“You—” Misa trailed off, stomping her foot in exasperation. “Why are you so obsessed with us?”

“Light-kun and I are friends,” L said.

Misa snapped. “That’s— you’re only pretending to! Friends don’t do that to each other!”

L nodded, unbothered. “Perhaps,” he said. “But Misa-san pretends, too. She pretends to tolerate me. Light-kun pretended back there, he pretended to be unafraid when I pointed the gun at him. Misa-san must understand that being in a world where pretension is crucial for survival, we are what we pretend to be.”

L brought his thumb to his bottom lip, pulling it a little as he said, “So there’s really no need to be worked up for it, Misa-san. She just needs to be her usual self when I will send Light here for a visit. Until then, good night.” And bowing, he added softly, “May she have good dreams.”

“Ryuzaki told me that you wanted to see me,” Light said, quizzical, as though visiting his girlfriend was a confusing thing. “What do you need?”

Misa was busy nuzzling his chest. She had missed him. “I missed you,” she said. 

Light patted her back. Once, twice, and let go. “What do you need, Misa?”

“Can’t you visit me more often?”

Light frowned lightly, yet his eyes were kind. It was almost thrilling, how kind they were; it was slightly terrifying. Light never looked at her like this. “I am working with Ryuzaki on the Kira case, Misa. You know that I don’t have much free time on my hand.”

“Misa understands,” she said. “But I’m your girlfriend, and it’s so boring in here. I don’t even get to go out!”

“I’m sure it will be over soon,” Light said, sheepish. Misa’s hands on his shoulder tightened, concerned. Maybe Light really got hit in the head, she thought. The Light before would just have just left.

“Do you need anything?” Light said. 

Misa bit her lips, threw her arms around his neck. They stayed like this for awhile, with Misa’s head on his shoulder, meeting the eyes of the girl in the painting behind him, and Light wouldn’t kiss her.

“I meant it,” Misa said. “About earlier. I really did.”

She heard him sigh as he pulled her away. “Did Ryuzaki ask you anything yesterday?”

“Ask me?”

“He was… concerned about us.”

She grimaced. “He’s a pervert.”

Light lowered his head, and much to her surprise, Light was smiling. “He is trying find flaws in my explanation. In yours.” Light laughed, his eyes moving away from her, as though looking for something else. “Don’t you, Ryuzaki?”

Misa took his hands in hers, but Light had his head tilted the other way. He was laughing, his eyes large and foreign, and for the first time Misa started to feel the numbness of her arms, a strange sense of foreboding. Because this wasn’t Light, and Misa began to doubt if she forgot something about herself, too.

“I mean it,” Misa said to herself, almost dropping to a murmur. “I did mean what I said.”

“Light-kun knew I was here all along?” L asked. The voice echoed in the room. Light smiled; his eyes gleaming. He did not seem to realise that Misa was still holding his hands.

“Oh, yes,” Light said slyly. “You would never miss an opportunity like this to observe us, won’t you?”

“Clever.” L’s voice was dry. The amusement didn’t fail to pass through the flimsy microphone. “I’m not here for clever remarks, however.”

Light brightened even further. “A new development to the case?”

“Yes.”

Light retrieved his hands from hers. “I’m going.”

“Yes,” L said. “I would assume so.”

“Wait, Light—”

Light smiled at her; it took her aback. “I will see you soon, Misa.”

And he was gone.

“Have you got the answer that you wanted?”

“I think handcuffs will be necessary,” L said.

“Were you about to do it anyway?”

There was a noise of fork against sliver. “I think people underestimate Misa-san’s intelligence.”

Misa sat on the sofa with a magazine on her lap. The lady on the painting stared right at her audience.

“I’m bored,” she said to the painting, sketching her arms above her head. A shadow seemed to have lingered on the dark paint, just above the girl’s head. Misa narrowed her eyes and came closer. The paint was dry; the woman had her hands together, her eyes half-lidded. She was praying.

That night, Misa dreamt about Light. That wasn’t unusual. Her dead parents were lying next to him, and when Misa looked up, her hands were covered in blood, and Light was smiling down at her; unkind, cold, cruel Light, saying, _good, good, good_.


	7. Chapter 7

  
With the pace they were working on the Kira case, even Light didn’t realise it. It was Matsuda that mentioned it in passing.

“I apologize,” L said. 

“Leave it,” Light said. “The handcuffs allow for compromise.”

L was silent, but his hand stayed in his, the chain clanging when his fingers grazed his wrist. Matsuda muttered something akin to “I thought hand-holding was some kind of weird fetish Ryuzaki has and Light-kun had to put up with it”, then promptly went back dealing with his own business. 

So he was restricting his movements now, Light thought, wondering if L simply didn't care for the looks he will get or was really just that desperate to keep him by his side. 

His father looked healthier, some meat to his cheek yet. Light never ate more than necessary, but he had never been less hungry. It was almost palpable, like any shock of skin to electricity, a jolt of desire ran through him. Catch Kira. Catch them and give them the punishment they deserve. People like Kira didn’t deserve to live.

And then? 

“Are you serious about Amane?”

“As I said, it’s one-sided.”

After catching Kira, then what?

“Then could you act like you’re serious about her?”

Light ran through the statistics. It was clear that Kira was getting their information from local Japanese sources. The list of people that died of heart attacks lay before him, and Light responded, belatedly, “I don’t want to play with her emotions, Ryuzaki.”

L was showing them the new building that will serve the Kira investigation. L’s profile glowed from the light of the screen. “That was why I released both of you,” L said. Matsuda seemed to take offence before Light did.

“Light-kun saved your life!” Matsuda yelped. “Or did you forget about it?”

“No,” L said, picking up the fork. He stabbed a strawberry and presented it to Light. “Light-kun has my thanks. But he understands why I am doing what I am doing.”

Light did. He bit the strawberry off the fork. It was too sweet. “Either way, I’m not going to lie to Misa. I’m not going to use another person’s feelings just for an overelaborate scheme of yours.”

“That’s strange,” L voiced blankly, and returned to his half-hearted presentation on the building that was way too impressive for six people. Light listened to him, was awed in all the right moments, and, running his tongue to his teeth, tasted something like cream.

And after that, Light thought, I will never taste anything like it. Hunger was not hunger when he wasn’t hungry. He will go to school. He will be a member of the NPD, probably the youngest of his team. His future was set in stone and Light carved the way it wanted. He will never go hungry again, and never feel like this again— soft like any light, dashing on the profile of a man who hadn’t slept in days. Light let his hand slip away, and L let it.

They hardly bothered with two beds, now. L never slept and Light never pretended to care. Light cared about catching criminals; he cared about his father. He even cared about L. But Light respected methods and methodology. They were chained together for a reason; L never sleep for a reason, he understood them and respected that. There was no need to convince anyone otherwise.

In the middle of the night, L woke him up and told him that they had a lead.

Just as Light scrambled to get up and prepared himself for elation, he saw L’s face. “You don’t seem happy,” Light observed. He sat on the bed, a hand on L’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

They never closed the light in this room. L’s face was as clear as day, the drops of his lids pronounced and shadowed. “I want to know what is Light-kun planning.”

Light retrieved his hand. “That again?”

“I’m afraid so,” L said. “I don’t want to you to kill again.”

That was an odd choice of wording. “We’ll catch Kira together,” Light argued. “If I kill, then it will be in a court’s hearing and I would be a key witness. Didn’t you want to kill Kira?”

L let his head tilted his head back, falling directly to Light’s chest. “I lie to Light-kun about liking him,” L said. Light never thought to see L with closed eyes until he was dead. It was strangely intimate, the thought of holding a corpse of someone you knew. “He lies about liking me.”

Light didn’t dwell on that; sometimes L liked to say things that both of them already knew. He stared at L’s screen, scrutinized the names. “Who did you locate?”

“Your list helped,” L said. “Roppei Tamiya, Aoi Kouji, and Takeyoshi Moriya all died of heart attacks.”

“So Yotsuba,” Light concluded.

L made no movement. He was as good as dead. “This is an error theory,” L said. “All my cases have been proofs of that, but Light-kun’s case is the biggest argument for Mackie’s theory yet.”

“I believe in a good and wrong, Ryuzaki.”

“What is murder?”

“Wrong.”

“Kindness?”

“Right.”

“Is Kira right?”

“Ryuzaki,” Light said.

L finally opened his eyes. He turned, his body firm against Light’s. “I do, too,” L said. “I believe this is wrong,” he continued nonchalantly, and kissed him. “I believe that you’re wrong, Yagami Light. I believe that you’re a liar, the worst kind in the world. I believe that you’re a murderer. You’re morally corrupt. You’re evil. I believe all of that.”

L never kissed him before, Light remembered dimly, shrouded in some kind of dull anger by the back of his head. It was always him that made the first move.

“And it’s an error,” L said. “It’s an error that you’re brilliant, that you understand. It’s a fault that I believe in you.”

“That’s,” Light gasped when L kissed him again. “Ryuzaki—"

“You’re human,” L said. He sounded almost disappointed. He dropped his head to Light’s left shoulder, this time hiding his face. “You’re so human,” he repeated. L’s voice came as a whisper, a feigned confession done in a room, those uttered with only the Moon as witness. “You’re beautiful.”

It came off as a statement. People had called him that a long time before. Had confessed it to him in school halls, on the balcony, during social events. A run-off joke because how obvious it was, how boring it immediately became.

L released him. Light gained his breath, feeling as though he had missed something. His blood drummed loud in his ears. Trembling, he was left blinking at L, who stared with the same empty eyes, who said—

“Why is Light-kun crying?”

He brought a hand to his face, blinked, and blinked and blinked. “Ryuzaki,” he called, and didn’t know what he ought to say.

L’s hand grazed his scalp, caressing. And Light regretted this, whatever it was. When that car ran to L, Light had to run in front of it. When he wrote in that diary, L had to read it. He had been so bored. He had played in his head, this game of puzzles, of destruction. Light was eighteen year-old when he felt bored enough to die, he was nineteen, now, and felt so alive that he could kill.

“When we find Kira,” L said, “don’t leave.”

Light shook his head, not knowing if he was denying or accepting. “We should tell the team about Yotsuba,” he said. “Tomorrow.”

L left the bed. The handcuffs dragged along. Light fell asleep, an odd sort of hunger, not unlike a headache, curled in his stomach like a snake and didn’t leave him through the night. In the light, L kept typing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone (god forbid) is interested in learning more about [error theory](https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/moral-anti-realism/moral-error-theory.html), here’s a convoluted entry on it! I couldn’t resist offering some funky dualism with Plato’s Forms mentioned in chap 1, oop.
> 
> Plot? In this fic? soon.... I promise....


	8. Chapter 8

_  
Light was both a wave and a particle_ was his explanation to Sayu on the provenance of his name. It was only slightly better than _I am the eldest, so mom spent more time choosing my name than yours_. She was jealous, in a way that any six-year-old can hold a grudge, about how special his name was, as though being special had any real value. She didn’t seem satisfied with that explanation.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” she cried out. Light was accompanying her to school, his eyes on the sky. She had been clinging unto her bag too harshly, her manuals clanging loudly against her back with every step she took.

“It will be fine,” Light said, eyes still on that shapeless cloud. “No one notices people other than themselves on their first day of school.”

She sniffed. Light nudged her to look up, pointing at the cloud beside it. “It looks like an apple,” Light said.

“No way,” she cried, throwing her arms high. “That’s a— uh—”

“A dog?” Light supplied.

“No, no. The one we saw with mum in the zoo—”

“An elephant?”

“No…”

Light let a few seconds sink in, and seeing that she was on the verge of tears, laid a hand on her hair.

“I remember seeing something like a horse.”

Sayu stomped her foot on the ground. “No! It wasn’t a horse!”

“Is it?” Light ruffled her hair. “This cloud got two bumps on its back…”

“A camel!” Sayu said, flashing her uneven teeth, her eyes bright against the early sun. “Ne, am I right? I am right! It’s a camel!”

“Of course you are,” Light said. “I bet other people in your class can’t even say that word properly.”

Sayu laughed, her small hands in Light’s. “It’s because my brother is a genius,” she said, “and he’s got a weird name, too.”

“It’s not weird,” Light retorted in the same tone. Sayu rolled her eyes.

“Whatever!” she said, and together they arrived at school with a heated discussion on why exactly there were clouds in the sky. Sayu had never complained about his name ever since.

“Sayu is a great name,” Light said, nonchalant. The school was already filled with worried parents. Mom must have just finished cleaning the table; dad was working. In a moment of distraction, Light bent down and kissed Sayu’s head.

“I will see you soon,” Light said.

It was probably then that Sayu decided it was okay to bother him for homework during all hours of the day.

It wasn’t exactly a lie, what he had told Sayu. There was no real reason behind his name, but when boredom sank in, sharp, beating inside the cage (the _worst_ cage, one that Light can’t control, it beat and beat and beat on), Light went to the public library to kill it.

Not particularly bookish nor interested in anything beyond the necessary, Light simply observed more than others. He read what he had to read and understood what was there to understand, and when it came to understanding his name, _light is a particle, but the flow of photons, invisible to the naked eye, is presented as an electrical wave,_ seemed like a good enough answer for him.

L smiled at the story afterwards. Light suspected that if L were capable of laughing out loud, he would have. Light pulled the threads of his clothes and wondered why he told the story in the first place.

“Quantum theory,” L said good-naturedly. “It suits Light-kun.”

“I don’t know if you’re mocking me being odd as a child or genuinely interested in the duality of light.”

“It is odd to be interested in the corpuscular theory of light as a child?”

“I guarantee you it is,” Light said, and was reminded of the fact that L wasn’t quite normal in the first place.

Ah yes. They got into the discussion after a yet unfound accusation of being Kira. Light sighed, lifting his elbow from the table. A familiar feeling of annoyance settled in along with something else, a part of him that was familiar with conversations like this. Only with L. 

Light inclined his chair. “If you’re going to say how my name is _Kira-Kira_ —”

“No,” L said. “I just don’t see anyone else being able to live up to his name quite so literally.”

Light’s lips twitched. “Is that compliment?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are bad at delivering compliments.”

L tilted his head. “Light-kun thinks I’m talking about science?”

“No,” Light said. “Not at all.”

L nodded, as though in agreement. “Well, light does shine, does it. _Kira-Kira_ —”

“I told you not to, Ryuzaki.”

“I assumed we were talking about different things.”

The chair rattled as Light jerked the chain to his side with a flick of his wrist. L was sent his way, and like any good friend with a good enough temperament, Light only punched him in the stomach.

“ _No_ ,” whined Matsuda. “Ryuzaki aside—”

“ _Why_ aside?” L said, his fist sending Light flying to the ground. The chair gave a swirl, stilling as L grabbed the edge of it.

“— but Light-kun at least should stop fighting every single minute of your life! I’m tired of listening to you two talking nonsense and then get into fights out of nowhere—”

“Why _me_?” Light cried, his hands pulling at L’s shirt, pulling him off the chair, a bruise already forming beneath the clothes. “Ryuzaki is older—"

“I don’t believe age has to do with intelligence.”

“Are you saying that I’m stupid?”

His father’s voice rose at the same time. “Light, stop fighting with—”

“He’s annoying me—”

“Light-kun is too aggressive—"

L and Light were tangled together, a mess of chains and shirts. Bastard, Light thought, his mind turning once again. L made sure not to hit the place his wounds once were, although they were completely healed. Light made sure to hit anymore he can get on L.

Mogi was minding his own business, immersed in his task with a computer far away from them. Even Matsuda eventually sighed and left after his father gave up on reasoning, and soon enough, the only thing he can hear was his and L’s ragged breath, her hold lessening on each other. Soon enough Light felt the coldness of the floor hitting him, as well as the fact that he never quite fought like this. He never fought with anyone. He wasn’t violent. If he were, it wouldn’t be for so little.

If he were, he wouldn’t do it while smiling.

“Stop it,” Light said.

L’s smile lessened, his eyes curling all the same. The chain made a horrible sound. “Light-kun is talking to himself?”

“I’m talking to _you_.”

“Yes, well,” L said. “I am listening.”

Light stood up wobbly, trying not to feel his father’s scrutinizing gaze behind him. It seemed unimportant, at that time, to be out-of-character. Light cleared his throat and offered a hand to L, who seemed comfortable to be sprawling on the floor.

“Take it,” Light said.

L obeyed easily. L got up, immediately crouching down his chair. Light returned to his side, and suddenly they could have been sitting like this for an entire lifetime, talking about cases and typing data into a computer that would cost his family’s entire saving, looking for a pattern that would catch the footstep of a world-class criminal on the loose.

I’m not going to apologize, Light thought, and rightfully didn’t.

“It’s like nothing happened,” Matsuda whispered to his father who happened to be on his left, blocking L’s hearing. “It’s like they don’t know why they were fighting. Do you think the stress has finally gotten into them? Should we separate them before they kill each other?”

Light busied himself with typing. From the monotone tips and taps of the keyboard, Light heard his father’s answer, “Light has never caused any trouble before. I’m sure he has his reasons.” And Light didn’t know what to make of it other than that the quick typing of L matched his, and that no, he didn’t have a reason any more than L had his. Ever since he woke up from the car incident, Light hadn’t understood the reason behind a single thing he did.

“No,” Light said.

L gestured the document. “I don’t have much time. In fact, I am desperate.”

Light snatched the fax away from L. “This doesn’t guarantee anything. Either way, once “L” is killed, they will kill Misa to keep silent.”

“If we win, Misa-san won’t have to die.”

“It’s not about winning,” Light said. “You know that. Deep down, none of this is about winning.”

L turned to Misa, her arm clutching his tightly. “Misa-san’s love for Light-kun is the greatest in the world.”

Without looking, Light can feel the exact moment she let go of him to gawk at L, listening to the back-and-forth between them that Light had no interest in nor care for. Something in his mind shifted again, wondering if this plan will work. If this will capture Kira. If this will end soon.

Misa was holding L’s hands. L looked confused and only slightly dulled by her energy. She said, “How about being friends, Ryuzaki?”

L’s stare went to him, then back to Misa. “Yes.”

And L knew, Light was sure, that none of this was about friendship, or love, or winning. Light’s wrist itched as he covered it with his hand. The clock in the room said 6:03.

“I will happily die for you, Light,” Misa said, her eyes in earnest. And Light knew that, too. 

Because stories can work as a distraction, so Light liked to tell them. Sayu liked to sneak into his bed at night when the parents were off to bed and Light was studying by the lampshade. She always bought her bear with her, telling her day to the stuffed toy, while Light pretended to care about the stories he was telling. It was the same thing, really. Light knew that people were boring. Light had an easy time imitating them; threading the soles of his shoes on the playground and soiling them, listening to his school friends, those that liked to laugh without meaning, basking in some meaningless joy and pain, agreeing and disagreeing when appropriate.

L never slept; he pretended to never sleep. There wasn’t a human in the world that can survive without a minimal amount of unconsciousness. But he pretended to. Light let him.

“I’m tired,” Light said. They were back in their room. They had concocted a plan to infiltrate Yotsuba in the next few days. “I’m going to sleep.”

L didn’t give him an answer; Light didn’t need one. He turned his back to L and closed his eyes. Silence sounded exactly like this; L’s thinking sounded exactly like this, silence; the quiet firing of synapses. Light tried to sleep; he pretended to sleep.

A humming. Light ignored it until something cold touched his face.

Light feigned sleep. A shuffling of sheets. Light groaned when the cold thing grazed his ears.

L was blinking innocently at him when Light sat up, his fingers holding the end of a cheap earplug, chirping music. “I thought Light-kun would want some music to help him sleep,” L said.

“I don’t,” Light retorted. “And it doesn’t seem to help you.”

“I was about to sleep,” L dismissed him naturally, gesturing him the other earplug.

Light took it with a grimace. Orchestral music picked up in his left ear. He had thought it would be some kind of odd electro-music, given his liking for Amane Misa’s modelling career. Huffing, Light settled further into his pillow. “What is this?”

L’s body heat was palpable, in the opposite way: it was as cold as a corpse. “I guess it’s unfair to expect Light-kun to know everything.”

Light grunted. “Music is distracting,” he said. “It’s not my fault if I got better things to do.”

From the corner of his eye, Light saw L recoil back to a familiar position, one that resembled a cocoon but not quite. L looked back at him, his head on his knees, the earplug line between them stretched long and thin. The harp picked up the pace and continued its syncopated rhythm.

“A sonata?”

L didn’t even blink. “Why would he think that?”

Light let his eyes wander to his face, the deep shadows beneath the pupils. “I have only read on the sonata form,” he said, then relenting. “It could very well be the first movement of a concerto or symphony.”

L closed his eyes and set his head on the pillow next to Light’s. “Has he always been like this?”

“Like what?”

“Theoretical,” L said, unbothered. “He knows musical forms but he doesn’t know music.” He tilted his head. “Can you guess the composer?”

Light worried his lips. “Give me a hint.”

“Austro-Bohemian,” L said. The music ran its course, the harp morphing to that of bells. “Romantic movement. Born in 1860.”

“Famous for?”

“Symphonies.”

“I meant _which_ work, Ryuzaki.”

“It would be too easy.”

Light brought a hand to his chin. “Mahler.”

“Yes,” L said.

Light smiled. “The sixth?”

“The ninth.”

“The pattern is similar.”

“Only on paper.”

Because Light only saw partition pieces, of course, but there was no need into telling L that. They listened in silence.

It wasn’t that Light had no interest in music, just like he wasn’t interested in chemistry, or physics, or anything else. The music was good, but a lot of things were good and a lot of things were bad. In an ideal world, Light will purge the bad from the good, and everything will be pure again. The music continued.

“I wouldn’t consider this a lullaby, Ryuzaki.”

“Mahler thought it to be his last one,” L said, his voice somewhat softer. “No one can beat the curse of the tenth.”

Light smiled. The chain between them feeling lighter than their connected earplugs. The music was heavy; a pseudo-funeral march. “Don’t bring Biblical numerology into this, Ryuzaki.”

“Ah,” L said, almost whispering, “I have been caught.”

Light laughed, pleased, delighted for who knew what. The earplug slipped up from his ear; L placed it back for him. Light crossed his arms, a smile firm as he said to the ceiling, “I know what you think, Ryuzaki. There’s no need to hide.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Yes, but as a figure of speech—”

L took his chained hand, causing him to let his arms loose. L was looking at him the same way a few weeks ago, and Light understood it the same way he understood music. Good. Bad. Something in between that needed purging— whichever.

L’s eyes were lidded after they kissed. Mahler gave them a whole-tone waltz, a frenetic beat.

“Ryuzaki…”

L’s head fell on his chest.

As Mahler ended in _pianissimo_ , L had already fallen asleep in his arms.

Misa, beyond all expectations, and much to Matsuda’s awe and shame, came out triumphant.

“It’s Higuchi,” she said with her head buried in his chest. “He’s Kira!”

They concocted a plan. Matsuba protested at first, but agreed in the end, of course. Predictable people and predictable actions. The itchiness of his wrist increased.

Misa was holding him for too long, Light thought, a little appalled, a little bored.

_It was not broken, it just needed mending_ , Light said to Sayu when she ran to him crying, in her hands a one-legged bear. Light can repair it, he can sew it back to life, he promised. _Everything can be fixed if you just try hard enough._

The wind stifled as L dragged him inside the helicopter.

“You could do it too, Light-kun,” L said, his hands on the wheel. His expression must have betrayed him. “It’s all about intuition.”

Right, Light thought, not exactly listening. He can give him the complete history of helicopters, he can name the model; he can’t control one.

“Relax,” L said, putting the headphones for him, his fingers grazing past his ears. For a brief moment, music echoed inside them. “We will catch him.”

Light’s mouth was dry. “We,” he said. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t much of anything.

“We,” L replied anyway. And the helicopter picked up to the sky with them inside it.

After that, his father screamed at nothingness. Higuchi was screaming at it, too. The black college notebook seemed to be the cause because Light screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed.

Light can sew it back to life. Seven days weren’t enough; God made this world flat, dull, broken beyond repair. Light can repair it; he can sew it back to life, he promised. _Everything can be fixed if you just try hard enough._

“Light-kun,” L said.

Light controlled his breathing, controlled everything that made him want to write, write down every name and places to destroy and build this world anew, _Higuchi Kyosuke_ —

“Light-kun,” L repeated, taking the notebook away from him. Light let him. He only needed his—

“ _Light_.”

Light looked at him.

L pulled out a box from his jeans. There was a broken watch. A piece of bland ruled paper and a thin needle rolling back and forth as the helicopter stilled.

“It’s bullet-proof,” L said as though it mattered. “Watari, take care of the notebook.”

“Ryuzaki—”

“And put him a second handcuff, please,” L said, and went back to see Higuchi writhing in pain, his eyes and hands bound, lamenting on a stage that he cannot see.

L must have seen his expression. Something twisted, something cruel. Confusion and fear, Light hoped, did not make it. L said, “I made this watch. I gave it to your father and told him to gift it to you for graduation.”

Light screamed.

And God laughed in a sing-song fashion, wings sprouting shadows, and said in a voice that mimicked anything but human, _oh, Light-o, what you’re going to do?_  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kira-Kira Japanese names refer to names that do not adhere to their original Kanji pronunciation. L was referring Light’s name being “sparkly” (キラキラ), as it also detains this connotation as well.  
> The curse of the tenth is super funky and interesting- ties well with my stupid attraction to number symbolism. Conversely, this series will have nine chapters. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading up til now!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey- happy new year! I’m pretty sure no one is waiting for an update at this point, but here is the (not very) thrilling conclusion. Some details in this fic might not adhere to canon (ie. specific rules of death note), but hey, this fic has the most used-up trope in all of its fandom’s history, so what did you expect.

  
The ceiling was burning, the cracks a web of dust and sprung daffodils. The world was ending, bent, curved into itself in a painful spasm— the world will end. It will end the way it always had, reflecting anything but light, and drag on with the same worthless, boring beat, and Light will cease to exist.

In short, Light was ending.

In truth, he was God, and he cannot see. L blindfolded him, and the helicopter’s roof was a dark, dark thing. Light’s bound hands—his fingers marvelled the seat where he sat on; his fingertips grazing the cracks. There were no flowers, no ceiling. All that he thought was reconstruction, an after-image, past thoughts written down as gospel. Because the world will not end; it will continue as it always had been: dead, rotten, reeking. Light knew who he was; L knew it, too.

“It’s almost spring,” he heard L say. It was a mistake on L’s part not to cut off his sound. Or maybe L wanted to talk to him one last time before he sent him to his death. “I don’t think we can see cheery blossoms this early, however.”

“I’m innocent.”

L must have looked at him, Light convinced himself. Constructed an image of. “Oh?”

“I’m innocent, Ryuzaki— I am innocent. Someone must have framed me. Kira framed me— he framed me. I am innocent,” Light babbled. L wasn’t speaking. Was he looking at him?

There had been a pause. “I trust Light-kun’s intelligence when I say that I have in my hands the concluding evidence. It doesn’t get more damning than it is.”

It doesn’t, and Light usually wasn’t one to talk foolishly. But L and Watari were the only ones that knew this. They were the only ones with the evidence. Light breathed in, erratic. Everything was slipping away. His plan, his life, his new world, all because of a damned watch. He needed Rem. He needed L to die. He needed—

“Watari informed Yagami-san about the current situation,” L said. “We will be putting Light-kun in a confinement room. The same one. The security will be better, though, since I am one-hundred percent certain of who Light-kun is, now.”

Light didn’t care about that. “My father,” he said. “My father… you told him about—”

“Kira,” L said.

And Light should not care for it; there was so much more important things to plan, to scheme. He should not care for it. Still, he pictured his father’s face, the furrows of his brows. “I am going to die,” Light said. It came out wondrous, horrified. “I am going to die. I don’t want to die; I don’t want to die.”

The helicopter was loud. Light can imagine L, the earmuffs, and the soft fumbling of hands. Light can’t touch L with his hands bound. L won’t touch Light.

“I don’t want to die,” Light said. He shook his head, shook it again. He can name the feeling, he can name _fear_ and make it his, the trembling of his lips, the tensing shoulders. He can even feel it, but saying it was power. _I don’t want to die._ It was a wish. It was a prayer. It was assertion.

“I would have loved for him to see the cherry blossoms,” L said. The helicopter stopped moving, but its blades kept spinning. The door opened; Light’s hair went flying, the threads covering his eyes. L helped to put them back in place. L’s hands were dry, brittle; Light wanted to break them, to pull at the tendons and come out bloody. Bite the hand you feed on, Light read somewhere, but he had no time for triviality. Everything was trivial. He will eat the floor if it meant something real, as real as L dropping dead on it.

“It was very beautiful,” L said. “It was the first time I saw it in Japan.”

Light remembered. “It was—”

“It was beautiful,” L said. “But that’s not important now, is it?”

It was with me, Light wanted to say. You were behind me in the entrance exam, and the sky was full of that. We finished our questions at the same time. We looked out in the window at the same time, too, and they were right there. They were beautiful.

“Yes,” Light said.

L looked sad in his head; the same way faceless people sometimes lamented in his dreams.

“Kira,” L said.

Light was taken in a cell under twenty-four-hour surveillance and sixty-four cameras, L informed him. He can’t see. Voices came in muffled, blocked the same way light was filtered through his blindfold, the soft glimmers. All there was were the dust between his fingers, the distance of his knees from his neck, and the hairs behind it, the bone beneath; the knowledge of how easy it was to snap it, torn between life and something else. The pulses of a God.

Light can’t hear, but he understood that God was laughing. God with wings twice his height, and bored, bored, bored. Someday Ryuk will kill him. God was waiting for what L was going to do with him. God hoped that it would be entertaining, and that was all. Light never believed in stories growing up. It was so hard to be entertained in the first place.

So L found out, and so L imprisoned him. Light was Kira, Light almost died for L, Light was an eighteen year-old who wrote in his diary _, I don’t know if I should feel this way for him_. Light was Kira and _I think_ _I am in love with him_. Light saw L jitter in his seat, his fork playing with piece of cake gone warm, the filling spreading across the plate like a long overdue thought, like blood.

Did L picture him—his eyes on the cameras, picture the way Light sat on the floor, his thoughts spinning? What did he think he thought? L must have seen touched the paper— he must see Ryuk lunging next to him. Light was thinking about his father. Absentmindedly, he wondered if L can deduce that, too.

The earmuffs did not help. “Light,” the voice said. It belonged to L; it wasn’t L. He bothered to disguise it—his voice— _his own voice_ that he had heard a thousand times before— and the thought was so absurdly funny that Light laughed. He didn’t remember ever laughing like this. Light laughed like he was about to die. He laughed like a God. Perhaps he was both.

“Are you _crying_?” Light asked, choking on his own laughter. He wheezed. “Are you crying, so you let your voice go flat? Are you _afraid_ of me?”

“A little,” the voice said. L said. “I remember asking Light-kun if he was afraid of intimacy. He has replied the same thing.”

“I was lying.”

“I know,” L said. “We are friends.”

“You were lying about that.”

“Yes,” L said. “I was, I suppose.”

Light laughed, a single chuckle out of his lips before he settled his back on the wall, cold. “There was not a time where we have told the truth to each other, is there?”

“Yes,” L said. “Not a single time.”

Light was still thinking. “Is everyone else listening?” Silence. “Am I going to die?” Another. Light didn’t want to die. “Can I have my diary back?”

L finally answered, “What for?”

“I am not Kira,” Light said. “I am not him, yet you kept insisting. I will die. I will die that way. Can’t you just grant a dead man’s wish?”

“He is not dead yet,” the voice went on. The brittle fingers tapping against the hard surface. “Everything can change as long as he is alive.”

“I didn’t peg you for an optimist.”

“I am seeing the world as it is. Light-kun is not a martyr. He will not give up his life with the hope of his followers to rise—there is no value in immortality if he only lives in the heads of those who survive. He will beg and whine and scream because he is human, and humans don’t give up without a fight.”

There was an echo, muffled, soft and sad like he imagined his father to be. Light heard, “That’s enough, Ryuzaki” from his father. The entire Kira investigation team was there, scrutinizing him through the lenses, striking him as a monster to be contained rather than a God to be feared. L was wrong. People have died for their cause. History proved idiots that they can burn themselves alive in the name of freedom, of God, of revolution. Torches of freedom, they called themselves. Light was different. Light _was_ the torch. Light was God. Is.

“Can I have my diary back?” Light said. Light begged. Light will beg if that meant victory. “Please, Ryuzaki— if I cannot convince you that I am not Kira, then— this is my last wish.”

The silence went for a long time, tangible, a taunt line broken only by Light’s patterned breathing. The buzzing through the mic continued.

“Light-kun will have his answer soon,” the voice said, impassive because it had never been anything else. And, almost as an after-thought, the voice added, “Your Shinigami is quite distracting to all of us, I have to admit. Can he tell them to rest? I am sure Shinigami needs rest, too, don’t they.”

And he knew— Light will not sleep. L will not sleep. God slept, its wings shadowing, curving, bending on earth, cast shadows upon the cracks. Light felt them with his fingers and smiled, smiled, smiled. He can still win. He dropped his head to hide from the cameras. He let his shoulders curl at the level of his ears. It was useless. L will know. Game recognizing game.

There was a piece of paper ripped off from Light’s notebook. L was holding it, Light was sure. Perhaps staring at it right now, because the bed would empty and L was not sleeping. He was looking in the cameras, light framing his face. Listened to Ryuk’s laugh, then saw Light sitting at his usual place, trying his best not to laugh in turn.

Rem was whispering to his ears. L cannot see her— her note was buried deep in the ground, in a forest kilometers away.

Rem’s answer stifled a laugh from Light. “I cannot kill him myself; you know that. With you imprisoned, the only suspect will be Misa. But you must have planned this, don’t you? If L didn’t find you out, you would have used me to get rid of him.”

 _He has sabotaged all my plans_ , Light thought, yet his blood was singing. He couldn’t say a word to Rem. L was watching.

“How will you kill him?” Rem said. Light’s entire body burned. Rem went silent. She must have seen his face. “You will find a way,” she said, wondering aloud. “You will. You are Yagami Light, after all, aren’t you?”

A man that had the face and built of international hitman entered his cell and removed his blindfold with a sneer on his face. Light frowned painfully, blinking to adjust to the light in the room. It was a barren place. The man handed him a binder, heavy as he dropped them on the floor. Another was a small book of average size, the white of it blinding in Light’s newly gained eyesight.

It was his diary.

“ _Told me to drop it to ya_ ,” the man said, his American accent lost to Light. “ _There you go, boy. Better now that you can see, dunnit?_ ”

Light could have spit on his face. It was hardly worth it. It was undignified, too, the way he scrambled to pick up the diary, his fingers making their move to peel the cover open—

The man quashed his hand with the sole of his shoes. “ _Huh, uh. Boss told me ya can only open that thing when you read through that thing o’er there. Told me to stop ya if ya don’t follow the rules_.” And hazily, Light saw the man grin. “ _I’m stoppin’ ya through ‘all means possible’, he told. I ain’t disobeying him.”_

Light groaned, sliding his hand off the cover to go for the black binder. The man’s shoeprint left a dirty trail on the back of his hand— he cleaned it by wiping it on the fabric of his clothes; his lips pulled down in disgust. He didn’t want to talk to the man, though the latter seemed to expect some kind of insult thrown at him, Light thought. Self-conscious in his rudeness, the man was a stand-alone dumb-show.

Look at the people you pick, Light chided mentally, opening the binder. Cheap, dog-eared papers were what was presented to him. Kira’s victims. Light schooled his face blank and read on.

L never showed this to him before. Maybe it was private, this little collection of his. Maybe he wanted to wait until Light became Kira again, as though he knew exactly what had happened to him ever since the start. L’s scrawly writing sometimes appeared at the bottom: _Kirisaki’s daughter. Suicide after father’s death._ It occurred to Light that he had never seen L hold a pencil before. Light’s fingers trembled under the weight of it— the humanness of L in those strokes— page after page was L’s investigation on each criminal’s family and background. A catalogue of human rejects.

 _Falsely convicted_ , the pencil scrawled in the margins of a legal document of a drug-offender. _Pleaded guilty_ , some other profile stated. _Misjudged forensic evidence. Proof found in 2006. No media coverage on it._

This was L’s diary.

They could be lies—just as Light’s diary was. Fabricated evidence for public consumption. There were pages L had made no notes, almost as though L approved it—and the surge of pride at that missing note—like the silence between a screeching melody, was comforting, almost lovely.

L commenting on his work. His best work. L’s diary. L’s life had become his in a way that only Light can see as a victory, and it was, it really was. Is, Light reminded himself. Is, is, is.

Rem hovered over him. She was not allowed to _tell_ him L’s name. But in his diary, those plain lined paper—she can write it down. She can write it down and Light will bite on his finger, let the blood loose.

Light took his time. He took his time because he knew how little he would have of that later. In Light’s diary was a piece of Misa’s notebook. He got five seconds after Rem writes down L’s name to tear off the cover and snatch the piece inside, another three to write down L’s name on his own. Two seconds to use the confusion that surely will stir up in that bodyguard’s earbud that Light will run. Rem will write off the names of everyone else involved that did not impacted his immediate lifespan—Aizawa, Matsuda, his father— everyone— none of them mean anything to her. She will do it; Light was sure of it. Light will win.

This, too, was a reconstruction. An image. A thought conjured up by his mind, the most beautiful cloud. But his world was imagined, and Godhood an illusion. Stories that he told. Light had nothing to lose anymore— not his father, not L, not even himself. Light reached the last page of the binder, his heart about to hammer out of his chest when he noticed the now-familiar scrawl write at the bottom of the page. An empty page.

 _Light_ , it said. Depersonalized, messy. _I am watching._ _I can write your name._

“ _Ain’t it crazy?_ ” The man laughed, scratching his knees. “ _I swear boss just had the same expression ya got on just now! I mean, I understand for ya, but what would he be scared o’? Cameras?”_

The man found his joke funny. Light let him laugh, his hands laying flat against the floor. He could eat it. A garden can spurn here unattended, and Light—fingers moving against the bright, flat, white book—understood that he had to reap for what he sowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading til the end!


End file.
